To Heal Four Hearts
by Sirabella
Summary: *spoilers for Journey's End* The Doctor is still suffering after leaving Rose behind, but his Tardis won't let him be alone for long. It's taken him to find his last living family.
1. Chapter 1

He knew it was odd. Weird, even. So many things he could have shared with her, the whole universe at their feet, and all he could think about now was what she would have thought of Jenny. He knew Rose better than he knew himself – and he'd been in this form for a while, so it was actually saying something. He didn't know what she'd have thought of Jenny, though. He'd told Rose he'd been a father before, but they hadn't exactly had time to discuss it then, even if he'd wanted to. And did it really matter now, anyway? Jenny was gone, and Rose so far away she was as good as gone. Forever. His forever, which was much, much longer than the one humans had.

But as he piloted the Tardis through time and space, not feeling the urge to stop and explore anywhere, he thought of Rose, and of Jenny. Not comparing, because they were not alike, and they held different pieces of his soul. But they were, he supposed, a second great blow from fate, the other shoe dropping on his chest, squeezing it into pancake. No, not pancakes; he liked pancakes. Rather, they were his second great loss, another family that had been stripped away from him.

And he suddenly knew why Jenny was in his thoughts now, of all times. Rose... he'd _had_ to lose Rose, to sacrifice her heart and his on the altar of Time Lord best practices: saving the universe and salvaging something good for the ones he loved out of the pain he'd caused them. He'd had to lose her because they'd chosen one road that had diverged into two. They were never meant to have forever; even if he'd held on to her as tightly as he could, she'd have slipped away eventually like sand through his fingers.

But Jenny had been his and no one else's. His little girl, born against his will but taken from him just as cruelly, and not because it was necessary, not to save anyone else. The trouble had ended, a new world had begun to thrive, and some small-minded little ape of a soldier had cold-bloodedly stolen her from him on a revengeful whim, on some kind of pathetic, desperate last-chance rebellion. If he'd stopped to kill every time he'd been angry enough, grief-stricken enough... there'd be nothing left of the beauty and wisdom of his people in the universe. No mercy, no generosity, no excitement and wonder left for the unexpected or the random... just cold hatred. Everything Rose had loved and nurtured in him would be dead along with Jenny, along with Gallifrey, along with all those sad, tiny minds that could grow now into something entirely new and incredible. Rose had saved him, and he'd tried to do the same for her. If only he'd had the chance to save Jenny, to keep her with him, to teach her and show her everything he'd never had the chance to show his other children and Rose.

All gone now. Rose, the only human he'd ever loved so completely he could hardly think of all the hundreds of years stretching impossibly out in front of him without her in them. And Jenny, the only child he'd had to learn to love, and he'd just barely managed to tell her before those sweet, doleful eyes had closed for the last time.

The Doctor shook himself like a dog crawling out of a pool. Why torture himself over things he couldn't change? Some things were fixed, he'd said it so many times. Jenny and Rose were like Pompeii. That damned volcano blew, in every reality, and all he could do was get out of the way. Or cause it, because the alternative would have been so much worse. He'd sacrificed Pompeii for the rest of the world; a life with Rose and with only one of him in it for the rest of the universe. But Jenny should have been his to keep.

WHAM. The Doctor was thrown to the metal grating as the Tardis swooped and rolled after its impact with something or other. The Doctor was floored, literally and figuratively. The Tardis had proximity alarms and shields and all kinds of gizmos to keep it from smashing into things it passed in space and time. The only time he'd ever slipped up was when he'd looked up and found the prow of the spaceship Titanic sticking through the wall, and that was because he'd been a little busy and had forgotten to put the shields back up. One tiny bit of mental abstraction had equaled one huge mess. But the shields were up, and the Tardis didn't have a single thing wrong with her, and he knew because he'd personally checked every single circuit over the last few weeks for lack of anything better to do. So, what...?

He raced to the doors and flung them open wide. He was floating in space, no big surprise. But there was something else there with him: a little spacecraft about the size the Tardis would be if it were a real police box. He stared at it warily. It was flashing distress lights, and he wanted to come dashing to the rescue, but if whatever was inside were hostile, he might get killed, and the last thing he wanted right now was to regenerate and lose the face Rose had last looked at with such pained adoration.

He'd just have to take the chance. The little ship was shedding bits of its outer hull and wouldn't last much longer. The Doctor maneuvered the Tardis up to the door of the ship and fastened on, securing the breathable atmosphere for the inhabitants when they came aboard. He flourished his sonic screwdriver at the door, and it slid aside. The Doctor staggered, only just managing to catch himself on the doorway. The shuttle had only one occupant, after all, and although she was unconscious, and a big bloody gash streaked across her left temple, she was visibly still breathing. And she was the most beautiful thing the Doctor had ever seen.

"Jenny," he managed to squeeze out of breathless lungs. Her eyelids fluttered as he lifted her out of the pilot's seat, but except for the steady rise and fall of her chest, she didn't move again as he carried her into the Tardis and shut the doors behind them.

He had an explanation now for the failure of the Tardis systems to keep the collision from occurring; the Tardis had been drawn to the only other living Time Lord in its vicinity and had _caused_ the crash. "Could have just said hello and invited her in for a cup of tea," he muttered as his worried gaze traveled over the nasty cut that was still bleeding sluggishly. He carried her to the closest bedroom (sternly avoiding the realization that it had been Rose's) and laid her on the bed, making her as comfortable as he could. He drew the blankets up over her and frowned. What if she woke up and wondered where she was? He shrugged off his coat and laid it over her; even if the Tardis didn't calm her right away, she'd recognize that coat.

He fetched as many medical supplies as he could find. Martha had left some bandages and things behind, and he could easily whip up some kind of antiseptic. Jenny would have to heal herself when she woke up.

Jenny. She was here, and she was alive. The Doctor still couldn't believe it. He'd seen her take that bullet. She'd died in his arms. But nevertheless, she was here, sleeping on Rose's bed.

Jenny's bed, he corrected himself. He'd decided almost as soon as he'd laid eyes on her lifeless face that he'd never again leave her in any doubt as to what he wanted, not like he'd kept everyone else hanging. Unless she wanted to leave, she would stay on the Tardis and travel with him, forever. He'd never lose her again, for anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Pink. Everything was pink. The walls, the ceiling, the draperies, the canopy, the bedclothes... wait, the bedclothes? Jenny sat up instantly. She didn't have a bed. But there was one here. Where was here? She rubbed her forehead gingerly; if she weren't a soldier, she might have just rolled over and groaned in her agony. There was a bandage of some kind on her forehead. And where were her shoes?

She looked around and noticed the only non-pink thing around was an awfully familiar brown trench coat tucked around her. It couldn't be…could it? Of all the gin joints, etc. She'd spent so long looking for him, admittedly having a few adventures along the way. Quite a bit of the running; she'd had to stop just a few days ago for a new pair of trainers. She liked the military-style boots, but they hadn't been designed with the soldier's comfort in mind, especially not comfort while said soldier was beating a retreat at top speed away from certain death.

Jenny leapt up and yanked the door open. Where was he? Where were they? She'd really liked those women he traveled with. Donna, especially; she hadn't spent much time with Martha. Jenny had been about 3 minutes old when Martha had been abducted by the Hath. Not much time for girl chat.

Jenny rolled her eyes at herself. She was sure this tendency to wander off mentally was her dad's genes asserting themselves. Only he never bothered with any filter between mind and mouth. About time she had a look around and found someone to talk to. Even if her dad wasn't there, maybe Donna could tell her why he'd left her alone in that pink place.

She followed a strange whistling noise down a gloomy corridor, and then another one, and another one. Where was her dad, and who was so enjoying the ability to hit every single note off-key? "What's that…song?" she whispered to herself. The only sign she'd been scared pantless by the voice that answered was a slight widening of her eyes. She was a good soldier. Either the wall next to her had just told her that the mystery pseudo-tune was 'The Yellow Rose of Texas,' or she was going crackers. All things considered, though, she wasn't sure which was more likely; after all, the apple never fell far from the tree.

Her point was made for her as she rounded the last corner into a large chamber with a great, green column in the middle and found her father, still whistling, his back to her, tinkering blithely with something attached to a lot of wires.

"Is this a bad time?" she murmured shakily.

He whirled around, square black specs, sonic screwdriver and all. "You're awake! Hullo, there. Welcome to the Tardis," he announced gleefully, bounding up to her and grabbing her up in his arms. She hugged back hard, trying not to cry as their last moments together reeled through her head: lying in his arms, weeping, recognizing her own agony throbbing an echo in his eyes as he tried to deny that he was losing her.

An absurd number of things to say flitted through her Time Lord brain, but all that came out was: "I missed you."

Jenny felt his fierce kiss on the side of her head as his voice, not quite its usual steady self, whispered: "I thought you were dead."

"Time Lord, next generation," she answered in a lighter tone, moving back to look up at him. "Not as quick off the mark as you, but did the trick, all the same."

He started squinting at her, up and down, head to toe. "And no ill effects? No excess energy you didn't dispel because you kept the same body—most of the same cells? No weird burning sensations?"

"What? No! Dad, I'm fine, stop making such a fuss." She was laughing at him, though, unspeakably relieved at this marvelous, plain proof that in his mind, she was every inch his child. He grinned his wide, ridiculous grin at her and looped his arm around her shoulders.

"Well, what do you think? These are my stomping grounds. Bit big just for two, somehow; never seemed that way before. But we'll make it count."

Jenny rounded on him so fast that her ponytail whipped him in the face. "Two? Where are the others? Donna, and Martha?"

The rigor of suppressed pain she'd seen several times before encompassed his features, and as she had before, she waited impatiently for answers. She was disappointed. "They went home," he said shortly.

"Home? But... well, yeah, Martha went home to be a doctor and get married, right? But Donna? She never wanted to leave; she was having the time of her life! What happened to scare her off? Or was it you? Dad, what did you do to cheese her off so badly she walked out?"

"Jenny." He took her face in his hands, and the vaguest wisp of tolerance still clung stubbornly to his expression. "It wasn't that. Donna couldn't stay. I had to choose: between wiping her memory and letting her die. She doesn't remember any of it, anything she did, anywhere she traveled with me in the Tardis; it's all gone for her like it was never there. Because if I hadn't done it... she had a Time Lord's mind, my sense of time, my knowledge, running through her human brain. She'd have burned, Jenny, and I couldn't let that happen. I took her home to her mum and her grandpa, because they love her, and they'll all be happy, believe me."

"She doesn't remember me…? Or you… Worst of all, she doesn't remember _herself_. She thinks she's just another human! That she'll never accomplish anything, that she'll live out her life and then die, and no one will know she's gone! Dad, there's no one in the universe who deserves that fate less! Is this what being a Time Lord means? Getting to decide who lives and who dies, who gets erased and who gets reborn?"

Jenny was frightened now; her father's eyes were far away, looking straight through her, into the past and the future. "Yes." His tone was grim as death, and Jenny shivered. "We see it all, so we're responsible for it. All of it, time and peace and hate and life, they're all ours to nurture or extinguish. Sometimes we need a little help from fate, but we always find the way. And humans, even"—he swallowed hard—"even the special ones, we're like their nannies; we help them when they need it, help them to discover that they can do so much in spite of seeing so little, we nurture their minds and instincts and other marvelous little human quirks we don't have, and so on. And we also guide them away from what's wrong, and from the things that are simply too much, too soon. Donna wasn't ready for what she got, Jenny; she'll never be ready. One day, perhaps, humans will find their time to open themselves to all that's out there. I'm rather sure of it. But now is not that time. Not even for Donna."

"Not even one?" she wanted to know. "Not one human has ever been…I dunno, great enough, to see what you see and just…carry on, like you do?"

"They shouldn't have to. Human life's too short to be spent lugging the entire life of the universe around upstairs; it's enough to chuck anyone off their turnip."

"Even Time Lords?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he managed to eke out of his strangled vocal cords. "Even the occasional Time Lord. But, as I said, fate has a way of straightening out things like that, no matter how—unpleasant—it is for the rest of us." Shadows of the Master, and of Rose, crossed his eyes, filling them with all that his nine centuries had brought him. An image of Rose lingered; he saw her once again being consumed by the molten gold vortex flowing over and underneath her skin, out of her eyes, saving him and the Earth, reducing the Daleks, those merciless, despised destroyers of his world, to atoms. The Daleks had taken everything from him, but they had also helped create a new world for him in the form of a vivacious, intensely curious woman who had always retained the innocence of a child throughout so many forms of hell. She had hijacked the Tardis and let eternity flood into her mind, poisoning herself, just for him. He had seen that innocence, that unshakeable faith, disappear the day they'd been ripped apart forever. He blinked; the shadows had fled. He saw that same faith now, in Jenny's eyes, but it was neither innocent nor blind; it was compassionate, and so sorrowful it was eating him alive. "Come on, Jenny, cheer up. We'll be alright now, you and I. You'll see." He could have bitten off his own tongue. He hadn't meant to assume (aloud, anyway) that she'd be staying on the Tardis. And yet, the thought of her leaving, _again_… He'd rather be a Cyberman. And judging by the expression on her face, she knew it, too. Too flipping clever, that one.

Jenny stepped forward and wrapped her arms back around his neck, just relishing the _feel_ of him, the feeling of having finally made it home…memorizing her Dad. "Don't be afraid," she whispered. "This is me, right here, and I'm not going to disappear. I belong with you, remember? Two hearts, and so on. Nothing in the universe could ever make me a better offer." She smiled at the manic grin threatening to split his face in two. "Now, let's talk about my room. What's with all the pink?"


End file.
